


where my armor ends, where my skin begins

by claudias



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 1950s, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Boys In Love, Character Death, F/F, Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mexican Jack Kelly, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reincarnation, Underage Drinking, World War I, as always, but neither of them will say it, okay more than one homophobic slur, one homophobic slur, sprace and newsbians are both background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-07-28 16:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudias/pseuds/claudias
Summary: Jack Kelly and David Jacobs are intertwined in each other’s destinies, but everything always seems to go wrong.





	1. Life 32: 1734

Perhaps the greatest feat of thievery Jack Kelly has ever pulled in his seventeen miserable years in this world is managing to get his hands on an invite to the royal masquerade ball next week. Yeah, it was cruel to take it out of that stuck-up lady's hands, but, boy, did it feel good to be on top!

He holds the envelope out to the group of boys flocking around him after smoothing out the creases against his shirt. "Look at what I got, fellas!" he announces.

Race snatches it out of his hands and examines the fresh, red seal, straight from the palace. His eyes widen. "No way!"

The others peer over his shoulder to get a look at the envelope, while Jack grins with pride, and takes it back from Race. "Oh, yes," he says. "Yours truly will be attendin' the ball."

It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that Jack can't pass up, he'd have to be stupid not to go. Besides, he'd heard a rumor that His Royal Highness Prince David would be making an appearance at the ball, and the prince is very much a recluse, even though he's the heir to the throne.

There is one problem, however. The attire. Jack doesn't have fancy velvet suits and silk ties like the wealthy citizens, he doesn't even have a mask. All he has is his father's wrinkled old dress shirt, his raggedy pants with smatters of paint covering several square inches, and his own face. It'd have to do.

Jack doesn't know who he's trying to impress when he combs back his wild curls. It's certainly not the snobby upper-class elites who give him looks when they pass him on the street, and it's not the royal family. Well, maybe it is. So what if he thinks Prince David is cute? Sure, he's never seen him in person before, but he's seen portraits.

The ballroom is magnificent. White pillars climbing to the ceiling, stained glass windows, and three chandeliers for one room! Christ, Jack can hardly believe his eyes at the spectacle in front of him. People dance to the concertos of the string quartet and dine on cuisines from all corners of the world. He can hardly wait to tell the guys about this.

He finds himself a dancing partner for a lively song - a girl with fiery red hair who introduces herself as Lady Katherine. She wears a feathery sea-green mask, and her gown is the same shade. She takes pity on poor Jack, who is stumbling through the dance with the grace of a newborn horse.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Katherine asks.

"No," Jack says miserably.

"Let me help you."

She tries. By god, she tries. Jack is not meant for dancing, that's for sure. He's stepped on her feet nearly a dozen times by now, but her attempts to help are in vain. Jack's mind is elsewhere.

The song changes to a slower waltz and Katherine moves onto a new dancing partner, so Jack supposes he should as well.

His new partner is another boy with dark hair. He's one of the most well-dressed in the room, Jack thinks. His clothes seem tailored just for him, they're not loose and hanging like Jack's, and his mask is sleek dark blue.

Luckily, this boy doesn't seem to be confident in his own moves, but he's still better than Jack. Their dancing is anything but synchronized, or with the beat, but Jack can't find it in him to care.

The boy sets his hand on Jack's waist, so he decides to set his on the boy's shoulder. Jack watches his hazel eyes behind the mask - he's most definitely judging the way he's dressed right now, and his assumption is proven when he asks, "No mask?"

"It's a stylistic choice," Jack says with a smirk.

The boy purses his lips together, his grip on Jack's waist tightening ever so slightly. "You know, this is a masquerade ball. The whole point is for you to wear a mask. It's plain stupid for you to go against the theme of the ball—"

"Maybe I don't like the theme."

"Do you only respond in witty, one-off lines?" the boy asks.

Jack's smile grows at his irritability. "Maybe I want ta go against the status quo, do somethin' different."

They lapse into silence as the song crescendos, and Jack decides to add his own moves, and then the boy steps directly on Jack's shoe, to which he grimaces. The boy lets go of him and does something strange: he laughs. He laughs so hard he's doubled over. He's got a blinding white smile, and Jack notices the way his forehead crinkles when he laughs.

"What's so funny?" Jack asks.

"We... We probably look like the biggest fools in here right now," he says between wheezes, and he looks up at Jack. "You can't dance, and neither can I."

"Should I be offended?"

The boy stands up straight, still breathless and recovering from laughter. "No, please, don't be. That was the most fun I've ever had!" he says. "Can I get your name?"

"It's Jack. Jack Kelly."

"It was a pleasure dancing with you, Mr. Kelly," says the boy, and it's not until now when Jack realizes the song is ending and it's time for them to change partners. "Another time, perhaps?"

"Well, hold on, what's your name?" Jack asks as the boy is being whisked away into the crowd by another young woman.

"It's David!"

-

Jack does not let it go to his head that he shared a dance with Prince David. But that doesn't stop him from boasting about it to his friends. Crutchie is skeptical, and Race doesn't believe him at all, but Romeo encourages him to find the prince again. At least one of his friends supports him.

But the thought of seeing David again seems impossible. He's the prince, for crying out loud, the King to-be, and Jack is nothing more than a peasant boy living in the local orphanage. Yet there's some part of him that longs for it. He's had a taste of the high-life, of what it feels like to be king for a day (or only a few hours) and it lingers.

Moreso what lingers is David. His crooked teeth. His inability to dance. The way he breathes out through his nose when he laughs. The prince isn't perfect, not by any means, he's not even entirely proper, which makes a small part of Jack's heart jump hurdles. He's not a high-end snob like the other boys make the royal family out to be, he's real and refreshing.

Jack wonders if it's possible to be in love with someone he's only met once, then he pictures David's face in his brain, and he thinks, it's very much possible, and it's happened to him. He's so in love with the mere thought of David that the butterflies in his stomach take flight and soar.

To his surprise, three weeks later, he does see the prince again.

Jack couldn't sleep and, in need of some fresh air, he sits along the beaten path near the forest with his sketchbook and charcoal, shading a half-assed drawing of the trees in front of him.

It's far from peaceful where Jack sits. He's near the town, so he can make out the sounds of lively fiddle tunes and people cheering, and a few drunken numbnuts like to stagger down the path for no particular reason.

"You're an artist," someone says from behind him. Jack jumps at how close the voice is, and is about to curse out whoever decided to interrupt him when he turns to see who it is. It's him. It's the prince.

"Brilliant observation," Jack says, trying to pretend like his heart isn't fluttering at the sight of David. He takes just a second to look at the prince without the mask on. He's... breathtaking. And that's a word Jack uses sparingly. But it's the truth: he looks like a real-life painting standing there in the moonlight in his fancy suit. He's got a hooked nose and a mole under the corner of his left eye, and holy mother of god, he's beautiful. "What're you doing here?"

"Escaping the party in the kingdom square," David says, sitting down beside Jack. "I can't stand being around those people."

"Why do ya go in the first place, then?" Jack asks. "Don't you have other princely things to do?"

"Well, I—" David pauses. "Wait, how'd you know I'm the prince?"

"It don't take a sleuth to put two and two together."

David looks down, kicking his boots through the dirt. "Right. Well, if you must know, I... was hoping to see you again?" he says, his voice getting quieter towards the end.

"His Royal Highness wanted to see me?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow, setting his sketchbook aside. Oh, this just boosted his ego up a mile. He grins.

"Please don't call me that."

"Then what do you want me to call ya?"

The prince hesitates like he's never been asked that question before in his life. "Davey. You can call me Davey."

Jack's heart does backflips and somersaults. Davey. It's perfect for him.

-

The two meet regularly, almost every single night. Davey sneaks out of the palace just to see him, and Jack sneaks out from the orphanage, which raises the other boys' eyebrows, but he doesn’t care. Jack finds out two things: Davey is eighteen, making him a year older, and he's incredibly smart. He knows about literature, astronomy, arithmetic, science, politics, nearly everything. Jack doesn't understand half of it, but he listens intently when Davey goes on and on about some niche ideal anyway because just hearing his voice makes him happier than it should. And Jack's smart, too, but in a whole other way. He knows how to navigate through the kingdom, how to down a glass of whiskey in two seconds flat, how to convince the merchants in the marketplace to give him free goods. They're so different, from two different worlds, yet they're drawn to one another regardless.

Jack would've thought it impossible to fall in love with Davey further, but every time they meet, he finds something new to love about him. The way he bites his lip when he's nervous. His fingernails chewed up from stress. When he turns his head away and blushes when he's embarrassed. The scar on his ear from an accident while sparring. He's so incredibly imperfect and beautiful, and he doesn't understand why Davey keeps coming back to a lowlife like him.

Jack secretly hopes it's because Davey is in love with him too, because he sees the way his gaze flickers over Jack's lips for a second too long, and he sees the way he breaks out into a run to catch him in an embrace.

He longs for Davey to be his more than anything in the world. It's embarrassing how quickly his sketchbooks fill up with drawings of Davey, Davey, Davey.

But Jack will never say it out loud, not for a hundred lifetimes, because he's afraid. Afraid Davey will reject him, or be disgusted, and in an instant, he'll lose everything.

They lay on a rooftop one night, neither of them saying anything. It's good that way. Davey can say nothing at all, and Jack will understand what he's saying anyway.

Davey's got his face turned towards the stars, the forever-expanding galaxy, likely mapping them out in his head, every single constellation, but Jack is looking at Davey, whose eyebrows are drawn in thought, and the corner of his lips turned down.

"You're thinking about something," Jack says.

Davey sighs and sits up, so Jack does the same. He's biting at his lip, Jack worries it might bleed.

"Davey?" he says when he doesn't get a response.

"I... I think I want to kiss you, Jack."

The air is knocked from Jack's lungs. Had he heard him correctly? "Then do it," he says, almost as a dare, but mostly out of desperation.

Davey turns towards him, then his lips are on Jack's. It's sweet, and it lasts forever, but at the same time, it's only a fleeting touch. Jack kisses him back with fervor, like Davey is the oxygen in his lungs, the blood in his veins, the carbon that makes up the whole of him. Davey is everything Jack needs to live. It's far from perfect, but that's what makes it so personal. _I love you,_ he wants to say. But he doesn't.

When they finally pull apart from each other, they're both breathing heavily, and their foreheads are nearly touching. Jack smiles, but Davey is staring down, and tears roll down his cheeks.

"What's the matter?" Jack asks, wiping away his tears with his thumb.

"I'm glad you were my first kiss," Davey whispers like he can hardly keep his voice from wavering.

"I'm glad you was mine, too." _I love you, Prince David. I want to spend the rest of forever with you._

Davey smiles through his tears, then wipes the rest of them away. He sniffles, then says, "I'm getting married to the princess of Costor tomorrow."

Jack's world comes crumbling down around him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You're lyin'," Jack says because it's the only thing that makes sense. There's no way Davey is getting married. Right? It has to be a joke. But Davey won't look in his eyes.

"They say she's a wonderful woman, and if I marry her, perhaps it'll keep the peace for a while longer. In the morning, I'm going to travel there, and I'm never going to return."

"But..." Jack is struggling for words. Just a moment ago, he'd had everything in the palm of his hands. How can this be happening? "There must be somethin' you can do."

"There's nothing I can do. My father ordered it himself."

"Then _I'll_ do something!" Jack says. "I'll demand to have a word with him myself, I won't let this happen to you—"

"Stop, Jack, please." Davey is pleading with him. "There's nothing either of us can do. This is going to happen, and this is the way it's going to be."

"But I..." Jack says. _But I'm in love with you._

"But what?"

"But I don't want you to go." He's pathetic. He can't bring himself to say it. Jack wraps his arms around Davey, and they lie there without another word until Jack drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, dawn is breaking over the hills, and his arms are empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this is a rewrite of a story i wrote a long time ago which horribly sucked but i found it and wanted to rewrite it. soo enjoy!  
thank you for reading <3 kudos and comments mean the worl


	2. Life 85: 1899

Jack makes it look easy, the whole selling newspapers and leading the newsies thing. Davey is far from being as confident as Jack is, he's not quite grown into his lanky body, and he hasn't found his voice, but as the strike goes on, he finds it easier and easier to speak up and state his thoughts.

But also, as the strike goes on, Davey also finds himself more and more enamored with Jack Kelly. This shouldn't have been a thing. It was only meant to be maybe a month of selling newspapers until his father went back to work, but it turned into a revolution and falling for Jack.

Davey is starstruck every time he looks at Jack, it's like he sees him with new eyes each time. His tanned skin, his dark eyes, his curly dark hair, and his freckles scattered across his face, that if Davey ever traces them with his thumb, he's sure he'll find a constellation.

But he doesn't do that.

Instead, he does nothing at all. He pines after Jack in silence. After the strike ends and they go back to work, Davey and Jack remain selling partners. But Jack is with Katherine now, so it's different. He's quieter, the way he talks to Davey seems more forced, and he can't be mad, because he knows Katherine makes Jack happy. Who is he to take away someone who makes him happy, or interfere with their love life?

Davey goes back to school. He still sells on weekends just to see Jack and the boys, but he's growing apart from them. He spends more and more time at home, studying, doing his homework, and helping out his family, which means less time with Jack.

They grow apart. It's natural, and Davey hadn't expected them to be friends forever. It's just something that happens. He moves into his own apartment, gets a job as a newspaper editor (for the Tribune, not the World), and lives life alone, and it's okay.

During 1917, amid the Great War, Davey gets the worst news of his life. Les had been drafted about three months ago—Davey had aged out of the Selective Service about four years ago, but Les was still twenty-seven, which meant he was eligible to be a soldier.

Davey gets the letter announcing Les's death. They hadn't even found his body. All they sent back was the identification patch on the inside pocket of his jacket.

Davey doesn't go to the funeral. There's nothing to bury, anyway. Instead, he locks himself in his apartment and screams and cries and works himself to the bone. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair at all. Why Les, of all people? Why did his baby brother have to be the one not to return home?

He's so distraught for months, caught up in his own swirling misery, that seeing Jack Kelly himself at his doorstep doesn't cheer him up. It's the first time Davey has seen him in almost two decades, and he looks so... mature.

He's got short-cropped hair, no more untamed flyaway curls, a sharper jawline, and older eyes. He's no longer that same boyish leader of the Manhattan Newsies, but he's still Jack.

"Nice place you've got," Jack says upon entering his apartment. Lies. It's a mess. He hasn't cleaned up in days. There's ripped up and crumpled papers everywhere lying on the floor, honestly, it should be considered a safety hazard.

"I guess so," Davey says.

"How about sittin' on the fire escape? Just like old times."

They do.

The view isn't the same as how it looked from his family's tenement on the Lower East Side. The only thing you can see now is the high rise buildings towering over the city. Jack leans against the railing. "I think I might be taller than ya now," he says with a grin.

He stands up straight, but Davey still has an inch on him. "I don't think so."

"Maybe one day." Jack chuckles. "How's life? I heard you's a bigwig editor now."

"I don't know if bigwig is the right term to describe it," Davey mutters, looking to the side, so he doesn't have to look at Jack. Even though it's been eighteen years, he still remembers the reasons he fell in love with Jack in the first place. The way he pulled Davey into orbit like he's the moon and Jack is the Earth. "But it's okay."

"Good. That's good."

"You're still a cartoonist for the World?" he asks.

Jack nods, a smirk quirking at the side of his lips. "Turns out Pulitzer ain't so bad a boss when you're on his good side."

"How's Katherine?"

There's a beat of silence. "We ain't together anymore. Must be sixteen years now since we broke up. Love at first sight's a sham, Davey. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Besides, I don't need a wife when I've got the best best friend in the world, right?" Jack says with a grin, wrapping his arm around Davey.

Davey scoffs. "You've been gone for eighteen years, and you haven't bothered to say a word to me this whole time."

"Neither have you."

Davey crosses his arms. He wants to embrace Jack, just to wrap his arms around him and hug him so tightly and never let him go again. He doesn't want Jack to leave him ever again.

"Maybe we's both in the wrong," Jack says when Davey doesn't give a response. "How's your family?"

Davey's eyes water, but he blinks back the tears and swallows painfully. "Mama and Pa are fine," he says. "Sarah's good, too. She's sent me letters."

"And Les?"

He should've been anticipating that question. Les and Jack had always been close. Les had looked up to him, he was his hero. Davey's breath is caught in his lungs. "He's dead," he mutters, his voice taut. His head feels heavy. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Oh, Christ, Davey," Jack says. He squeezes his shoulder and sets his hand on top of Davey's on the railing. Just for a second, he relishes in Jack's gentle touch. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Davey whispers. He holds back his tears, not wanting Jack to see him cry. It's not okay. It's not. But Jack makes it better just by being there, only his presence brings him a little bit of peace.

"The war?" Jack asks tentatively.

Davey nods.

"That's goin' to make what I came here to tell ya a lot harder."

He lifts his head, turning to face Jack. "Huh?"

Jack is silent for a long time like he's choosing his words carefully. Davey just wants him to say something. Did one of the guys die? During the silence, he becomes increasingly aware of Jack's hand atop his. He doesn't remove it.

"I'm goin' off to war."

Davey's blood goes cold. "No," he says, and he doesn't even care anymore. He lets out a sob, and his shoulders shake. He throws his arms around Jack, whispering, "Jack, you... you can't."

Jack holds Davey just as tight, hand gently stroking his hair. "It's okay, Dave," he whispers. "You'll be alright."

"You can't leave me again," Davey chokes out. Oh, god, the realization hits him in the gut. Jack came here to say goodbye. This is the last time he's ever going to see Jack Kelly again. And Davey is so heartbreakingly in love with him that he just might die if something happens to him.

"I'll come back to you," Jack says. "I promise."

"Don't promise," Davey pleads, lifting his head and staring at Jack straight in his eyes. How can he be so calm? "Please don't promise me that you'll come back."

There are so many words Davey's left unspoken. For someone who talks all the time, he hasn't said enough to Jack. He has to tell him everything. He has to tell him how he feels.

"Against all odds, Davey, I'll come back."

Jack leaves.

Against all odds, Jack doesn't come back. Crutchie hands the letter to him with shaking hands. Davey doesn't even read it. He rips it up in a fit of anger. All he has left of Jack is those torn-up pieces and the lingering memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise one day ill write something where les DOESNT die im Sorry  
posting this one a little earlier than planned bc i have a feeling the next one may come later bc i wrote it all out and i was like omg no this is dumb and deleted it all soooooo LMAO


	3. Life 99: 1932

The best decision Jack Kelly had ever made in his life was the choice to move into a huge, two-story house on the beaches of Maine (courtesy of Medda, of course). It’s not out west like he’d dreamed for so long, it’s ten times better. Screw Santa Fe. He has all he needs right here.

He has a view overlooking the ocean in a small seaside town, the freedom to do whatever he pleases whenever he pleases, and he lives with his best friend, Crutchie, and his brother, Spot, who’d brought along his ‘good friend’ Race.

It couldn’t be better.

Jack sits on the dock, absentmindedly sketching nothing at all, kicking his legs through the water, which reflects the sinking sun, casting an orange tint to his world. He begins to wish he had more paints, just so he can capture this scene forever, but he’d run out of orange last week. He makes a mental note to himself to ask Spot to get some more during his next visit to the store.

Eventually, Jack sets his sketchbook on the dock, watching the waves gently lap against the sand, and decides to go for a nighttime swim. The water’s actually warm tonight, so why not take advantage of it? He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, before diving in the water.

He considers himself a decent swimmer—not a good one, but he’s alright. At least, he can keep himself from drowning. But before he even gets a chance to swim past the dock, he spots movement in the water by a nearby outcrop of large rocks on the shore. Is it another person? He has to know.

Jack gets out of the water and walks across the sand, a bit wary, because he is so ready to fight whoever the hell is on his property at this time of day.

He nears the rocks, but there’s no sound except for the crashing waves and the birds distantly calling, and he’s about to assume there’s no one there, when he sees a head peek out from behind one of the rocks.

It’s a boy who looks to be about his age, about nineteen or twenty, who’s got brown hair. His eyes widen, and he immediately ducks back down, but Jack yells, “Hey! This is private property!”

Jack climbs through the rocks to get to the one the boy is hiding behind, but once he reaches it… there’s no one there. What the fuck? No, that couldn’t have been just a figment of his imagination. He could swear on his life that he saw someone. Then, a splash draws Jack’s attention back towards the ocean, and just for a second, he catches a glimpse of a dark blue... tail in the water. Oh, shit, shit, shit. He glances back and forth between the rocks and the water. That… couldn’t have been a mermaid he saw, could it have? Or, a merman, technically, since he’s sure it was a boy. But mermen aren’t real. They’re a myth. A legend. Right?

Jack isn’t sure if he believes his own eyes. But, reluctantly, he heads back inside, because he doesn’t think that thing is going to come back any time soon. However, he can’t help but stare out the window at the water, just in case he sees the merman again.

-

The next morning, Jack goes to the library and brings home as many books as he can about ancient mythology or anything related to mermaids. He pores over dozens and dozens of pages, trying to find any information he can on what he saw yesterday. But it’s hard, because when he reads, the letters get mixed up in his head, but honestly, he’s doing better than most days.

“Jack Kelly, are you doin’ what I think you’re doin’?” Race’s voice jolts Jack out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see the aforementioned standing in the doorway of the study. “Are you readin’ a book?”

“I _was_,” Jack says irritably, closing the book he’d been reading from. “Before ya interrupted me just now.”

“Whatcha readin’ about?” Race asks. He leans over Jack’s shoulder to read the title of the book. “_Ancient Sea Creatures?_ Never thought you was interested in that sorta thing.”

“I’m not,” Jack says. “It’s for, uh, a… commission. Yeah. A commission.”

Race raises his eyebrows skeptically. “A commission?” he repeats.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Ain’t you got anyone else to bother? I’m busy.”

“I’m just interested,” Race says, then he smirks. “‘Cause you’re lyin’.”

Jack’s mouth drops open. “Me? I ain’t lyin’. How would you know whether I’m lying or not?” he asks, his voice rising.

“‘Cause your voice goes two octaves higher, like right now. C’mon, Jack, tell me why you’s readin’ this, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Jack sighs, then mumbles out an explanation. “I think I saw a merman last night.”

Race’s eyes go wide. “You think ya saw a what?”

“A merman, Race, like, the half-fish half-human people. Ya happy? Now leave me alone.”

“No, no, no,” Race says. “I need more details. What’d he look like? Where’d you see him? Ooh, what’s his name? Was he cute?”

“Slow down,” Jack says, trying to process every question Race spitfires at him. “I saw him by those rocks on the shore. But I only caught a glimpse of him, then he got scared and swam off. Besides, everything I’ve been readin’ says seein’ a mermaid is bad luck.”

“Well, you saw a merman so maybe it’s good luck,” Race says with a wide grin.

“Whatever,” Jack mutters, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Go annoy Spot. I’ve got readin’ to do.”

-

Later that night, Jack goes back out to the dock with his sketchbook. He is most definitely not going there just to see the merman again, but there’s nothing wrong with being hopeful, right? He stares down at the blank page in front of him, then begins to sketch. It ends up turning into a botched drawing of the merman’s face. It just doesn’t… look like what he imagines. It’s the nose. The nose is absolutely wrong, but his memory isn’t good enough to capture every detail.

Jack lets out a frustrated sigh, and he stands, ready to retire to bed, but movement in the water draws his attention back. Hope twinges in his heart as a familiar head emerges above the water only a couple feet from the dock. Jack doesn’t move, not wanting to scare him off again. But the merman hoists himself up and rests his arms on the edge of the dock.

Jack’s heart pounds, because the merman is so much more beautiful up close, and the drawing in his hands doesn’t do him any sort of justice.

For a moment, all they do is stare at each other. Then, the merman says, “You’re a… You’re a human.” His eyes are wide. He must’ve never seen someone with legs before.

Jack smirks. “You’s one of the smart ones,” he says teasingly. “How can you tell?”

The merman clearly doesn’t pick up on his sarcasm. “Because you’ve got two legs, duh. Wow. I’ve never seen a real, live human before.”

“You saw me yesterday.”

The merman goes silent for a couple seconds, thinking. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you were a human. I heard humans were ugly.”

“Is that your way of calling me pretty?” Jack grins, and sits down on the dock again. He’s sure to cover the drawing of the merman, because he’s not sure how he’d explain that one.

The merman’s face goes red. “No!” he says quickly. “No, no, I mean, you’re… not ugly, but I meant…” He trails off, realizing he’s only talking himself into a corner. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

He submerges his head back below the water, but Jack calls, “Wait!”

There’s a long period of silence, until finally the merman comes back to the surface. “What?”

“What’s your name?” Jack asks.

“Davey.”

“I’m Jack. It’s nice to meet ya, Davey. How ‘bout you come back here, same time, tomorrow?”

Davey frowns. “I really shouldn’t…” he mutters. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“What fun is life when ya only do the things you should do?” Jack asks. “C’mon, bend the rules. Live a little.”

-

So it goes. Jack goes out to the dock every night, and Davey is there, waiting. Davey is a curious individual. He wants to know everything there is to know about human culture. Every time Jack mentions something foreign to him, it ends up turning into a long explanation about some miniscular thing that doesn’t matter to Jack, but Davey is so intrigued by the finer details of life, so he explains it anyway. It’s hard to refuse Davey anything, really.

And Jack draws Davey more and more, even paints him a couple of times just to capture the right shades. Davey asks what he’s drawing so passionately, and Jack just says, “Nothin’,” because he knows it frustrates him.

Jack talks to Davey more than he talks to anyone else. He can rant to him about how business is going terrible and the stock market crash has made life ten times harder, or how annoying he finds it when Spot leaves his clothes all over the floor, and Davey listens.

Davey likes to talk too. Boy, he does not shut up, but Jack is fine with that, because Davey’s voice is smooth and sweet like honey and has him hanging on his every word. He talks about his sister and his brother and how all he ever wanted to do is walk on the surface, but he knows that’s impossible, and it makes Jack feel sorry for him, because Davey has dreams and ambitions. Jack used to be weighed down by his dreams, too, but now his only dream is right in front of him in the water.

Yeah, Jack might be slightly in love with Davey, but how can he be blamed for that? Davey is enchanting and ethereal and magical in every way. The only person who seems not to notice how in love Jack is, is Davey himself.

Even his friends make remarks.

“Why’s Jack got that dumb look on his face all the time?” Spot asks.

“That’s his lovestruck face,” Crutchie says with a grin.

As they theorize about who the girl is, Race stays silent, because Jack’s sure he’s put two and two together by now, and understands why he goes out to the dock every night.

And Davey is totally oblivious. He doesn’t see when Jack’s eyes linger on his lips as he rests his head in his arms. He doesn’t notice how Jack smiles at most everything he says. And all Jack wants Davey to do is realize just how in love he is.

But he doesn’t.

Jack doesn’t say anything, either, because Davey isn’t like him. They come from two different worlds, and they can never be together, even if they wanted to.

He comes close to telling him one night.

The sun had sunk beneath the horizon not too long ago, and the stars have begun to appear in the sky. Jack kicks one leg through the cool water as Davey looks up at him. “What’re those?” he asks, his eyes widening.

“Hm?” Jack turns his head to see what Davey’s referring to. What he sees is breathtaking. Dozens of fireflies illuminate the night, flying around the two of them. It’s a picture-perfect scene, Jack’s heart thumps a little louder against his ribs. “They’re lightnin’ bugs. Guess they like the water.”

Davey’s smile is blinding as his eyes follow the fireflies. Jack wants to draw him like this, looking wonderstruck, but he’d left his sketchbook in the house, so he resolves to hold onto this memory as long as he possibly can.

“Wow,” Davey muses quietly. “They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Jack can think of one thing more beautiful, but he keeps his mouth shut. They watch the fireflies for a few more minutes, before Jack finally is unable to handle the swelling feeling inside his heart. “It’s getting late,” he says, standing up.

Davey frowns. “But—”

He doesn’t get any farther, because Jack suddenly loses his footing, and before he can process what’s happening, he’s submerged in the cold water and Davey’s pulling him back to the surface.

“Are you okay, Jack?” Davey asks, concern shining in his eyes. His hand brushes Jack’s hair away from his eyes, fingers lingering against his skin for a few seconds too long.

Jack sputters and coughs up water, putting one arm on the deck as to keep his balance. “‘M fine,” he says, though he’s disoriented for a split second. “Thanks. You’re my hero, Dave.”

Davey flushes. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jack realizes how close they are. Their chests are barely three inches apart, and Jack can feel Davey’s breath. He wants so badly to lean in and close that space between them, to kiss Davey senseless until he feels lightheaded.

But he doesn’t.

Davey does. The kiss is fleeting, leaving Jack unsure if it really happened, but the scared, wide-eyed look on Davey’s face is enough to assure him otherwise.

“I- I should go,” Davey stammers out, turning his face away.

“No, don’t go,” Jack says hurriedly, grabbing hold of Davey’s wrist, but he yanks it away, cradling it close to his chest.

“You’re going to forget about me,” Davey whispers. Jack barely hears him say it.

“No, I ain’t,” Jack assures him, even though he’s confused on where this is coming from. Why is he saying this?

“Jack, you have to.” Tears shine on Davey’s cheeks, but Jack isn’t sure how to comfort him. He’s not even sure what’s wrong with him. It had been so perfect just a second ago. Davey kissed him. It was what he wanted. What changed?

“I think I’d have a pretty hard time forgettin’ you, Dave,” Jack says honestly. “You’ve got no idea how much you mean to me.”

This apparently is what sets Davey off, because within seconds, he’s gone, leaving Jack alone in the water, confused and slightly dazed.

Jack heaves himself back onto the dock with sopping clothes and leaves, because it’s clear Davey’s not coming back tonight.

-

The next night, Davey doesn’t show up at the dock. Jack doesn’t fret about it, because he knows Davey is just anxious about the kiss and is being his typical self, so there’s no use in worrying.

And the next night rolls around. No sign of Davey. Then the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. The panic starts to set in. He’d messed up, big time. The only reasonable answer he can think of is that maybe Davey loves him too, and he’d gotten scared, but that’s just wishful thinking. Jack really has no way of contacting Davey, so there’s nothing he can do except pace along the beach, hoping he’ll show up.

But he doesn’t.

That seems to have become the motto of Jack’s life. But he doesn’t. But he doesn’t. But he doesn’t. So what does he do? Jack sits in sorrow, staring at the vast sea, hoping to find the face of a familiar someone who will never come back.

Weeks pass. Jack finds himself trying to cling to the memory of Davey. He locks himself in the study and draws hundreds of renditions of him, just so he doesn’t forget how Davey looks when he’s happy, or upset, or deep in thought, because he can’t forget, he refuses to forget. He needs to prove Davey wrong. Forgetting is death.

His friends grow concerned. Crutchie holds an intervention because he’s so worried for Jack’s well-being, and he doesn’t know why his best friend is acting this way. Jack gives him vague answers and shrugs. Nothing changes, except for the fact that Spot and Race are a lot nicer to him and check up on him when he holes himself up in his room for days at a time.

He still goes down to the dock at night, but there’s no one there, just the memory of fireflies and cool water and hazel eyes.

Eventually, Jack moves on with his life. He convinces himself the whole thing was just young love and that it never really mattered, but it had felt deeper than that. The yearning was deep within his bones, like part of some divine force driving him and Davey together.

And, eventually, Jack forgets, like Davey said. He throws away his sketchbooks. He doesn’t spare glances at the dock anymore. He doesn’t think about anything that happened, because he’s not sure if it was even real. There’s a gap in his memory, and he knows there should be something there. Jack remembers that he should remember something, but he can’t place his finger on what that something is. All he pictures is fireflies and cool water and hazel eyes, and he should know who those eyes belong to.

But he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i struggled so much with this chapter. it’s so self indulgent it hurts i love mermaid aus yet i ripped gray hairs out of my head and shed several tears writing this and ive had lots of personal issues in my life lately but i hope you enjoy above anything else :) interpret how you want fellas
> 
> promise the next chapter is so much better bc I wasn’t going through a mental crisis 😙


	4. Life 107: 1957

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: homophobia, internalized homophobia, mentions of child abuse, use of f slur

Davey had never wanted to move. A new school was fine. But an entirely different city? No way. Manhattan is too big for him, and there are too many people, too much noise, too much activity. He can’t keep up with the city life. He doesn't know anyone at his new school, he has no friends, except for Sarah, but she doesn’t really count. She does, however, like to drag him into hanging out with her friends, much to his dismay.

“Not again, Sarah, please,” Davey groans.

“I thought you liked Katherine.”

“I love Katherine, but please stop making me third wheel on your guys’ dates.”

“They’re not dates! We’re just friends.”

Sarah and Katherine are most definitely not just friends. Davey is witness to their gazes at each other across the hallway, the entwining of their fingers under the dining table, the locked doors when they’re ‘doing homework’ together. The two girls are made for each other. Davey begins to wonder about the concept of soulmates, because they’re the textbook definition of it. Katherine and Sarah can’t stay away from each other.

Davey doesn’t think he’ll ever find a soulmate. Not when the boys in his classes tease him endlessly. Nerd. Fag. Every insult in the book. But he longs for a soulmate, even if he’s only sixteen. Someone who understands him, someone who’s there for him, someone who likes the same type of music and books as him. That’ll never happen, though, because Davey likes boys, and boys aren’t supposed to like boys. It’s wrong.

Currently, Davey finds himself sitting at the counter of a cozy diner, alone. He wants to punch whoever just put a dime in the jukebox to have _Heartbreak Hotel_ play for the fifth time in a row. Sarah and Katherine have found a booth for themselves and are sharing a milkshake. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, feeling utterly miserable and alone.

“You okay?”

Davey looks up to see a boy with dark hair sliding into the seat beside him. His skin is tanned, he’s got a leather jacket on. He gets greaser vibes from this boy. But his eyes... 

His eyes are familiar. Looking in them makes his heart race just a bit faster. They’re like home. Not the place, but the feeling.

Davey heaves out a sigh. “Not really.”

“What’s the matter?” The boy’s got a charming New York accent (Davey never thought he would describe that accent as charming, but there are first times for everything), his words roll off his tongue with ease.

“I don’t particularly feel like spilling my personal turmoil to a stranger,” Davey murmurs.

The boy grins. “Well, I’m Jack,” he says. “Besides, we go to the same school. I think you’s in my chemistry class. There, now we ain’t strangers.”

“Um,” Davey stammers. Jack… does look a little familiar, besides his eyes. But there’s hundreds of other kids who also go to his school, and the faces blur together. “Okay.”

“Now this is the part where you tell me your name.”

“It’s, uh, Davey.” He pauses. “Jacobs.”

“Well, Davey Jacobs, what’s gotcha lookin’ all miserable over here?” Jack asks.

Davey takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, really. It’s got a lot to do with the fact that Heartbreak Hotel hasn’t stopped playing since I got here,” he mutters.

“What, ya don’t like Elvis?”

“I can’t stand him.”

“Then what do you listen to?” Jack’s got one eyebrow quirked up.

“I don’t know. Everly Brothers. Buddy Holly. The Ink Spots. Anything but Elvis.”

Jack smirks, then begins his horribly off-key and dramatic rendition of the song.

_“Where I get so lonely, baby._

_Well, I’m so lonely._

_I get so lonely, I could die.”_

Davey snorts and shoves Jack playfully, causing him to laugh. Davey sends a glance over at Sarah and Katherine’s booth, where his sister is giving him a thumbs up. Fuck.

-

Davey starts seeing Jack everywhere. In school. Walking down the street. At the store. He most definitely plays up the ‘bad boy greaser’ character, and manages to charm nearly all the girls in school. Davey can see where the appeal comes from. Jack is cute, he’ll admit, but he also seems like a bit of a douchebag. He’s a slacker, disruptive, cool, and not Davey’s type at all. Besides, guys like Jack don’t go for people like Davey, the quiet, bookish kids. Guys like Jack are the people who make fun of him.

Davey watches Jack from the sidelines for months, and he learns about him. Jack’s a running back on the football team. His friends call him Cowboy because he likes western movies. Davey doesn’t say anything to him and Jack doesn’t say anything to him in return. Until they get paired together for a chemistry project and agree to meet up at Davey’s apartment after school.

Jack shows up fifteen minutes later than scheduled, but it’s alright. They kick Sarah out of the bedroom so they can work in peace.

As expected, Davey ends up doing a lot of the work and has to explain most of the concepts to Jack. But to his credit, he tries to be helpful, more helpful than Davey thought he’d be, even if he does doodle all over his papers.

And then Davey’s mother offers for Jack to stay over for dinner, to which he accepts.

So there they are, sitting around the dining table, Jack is on Davey’s left, Les is to his right, and his mother is questioning Jack about what he likes to do.

“I like ta play football,” he explains. “I like ta draw, too. I’m real good in art class.”

“Well, I’m glad to see David is making friends,” his mom says with a smile.

Jack’s far too charming. He’s complimented his mother’s cooking about fifteen times by now. Les seems to like him. Him and his father have gotten into a discussion about football. Even Sarah likes him, too.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack says, wrapping his arm around Davey’s shoulder with a triumphant smile. “Dave and I are best buddies.”

_Dave._ That’s a new one. He ignores his burning cheeks and fluttering heart and curses Jack for being so endearing.

Davey stays out of the conversation for the rest of dinner, but opts to walk Jack out of the building to get out of washing dishes.

“Your family’s real nice, Dave,” Jack says as they descend the stairwell.

“‘Dave?’”

“Your family calls ya David. Your friends call ya Davey. Now I’m callin’ you Dave.”

Davey doesn’t even want to ask what Jack considers their relationship to be. Not friends? Acquaintances? “Okay, then,” he says.

Jack looks at Davey with a mischievous grin, then hoists himself up onto the hand railing.

“What’re you doing?” Davey asks.

“What does it look like? I’m slidin’ down!” Jack says, and does just that, sliding until he reaches the next floor down.

Davey clambers down the stairs after him. “You could get hurt, you know!”

Jack just smiles and slides down the next set. “What, do you care?”

Davey crosses his arms stubbornly as he catches up with Jack on the ground floor, nearly out of breath by the time he reaches him. “I just don’t want to be responsible if you die,” he says.

Jack laughs. “You’re funny, Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Goodnight!”

Davey watches him exit the building and turn the corner, then makes his way back up to his apartment, trying to suppress his grin the whole way.

-

It continues that way. Even long after the chemistry project is done, Jack comes over several nights a week, often uninvited, up the fire escape, but it’s more of an unspoken thing. Besides, Davey’s family likes him, and Davey likes him just a little bit too, so he’s not complaining.

Okay, Davey likes Jack more than a little bit. Once he saw past the facade he puts up, he started seeing the real Jack Kelly. The protective, caring, and sensitive Jack. He never shows that side at school, but those moments when they’re alone in Davey’s room are worth everything to him.

Jack is tactile, too. He likes to run his fingers through Davey’s hair, and rest his head on his shoulder, and lay across his lap for no reason in particular, and Davey doesn’t really mind.

The only part that bothers him is Jack doesn’t talk to him at school. They’re strangers. It’s like he’s embarrassed to be seen talking with Davey, like he’s too cool for him. And it hurts. It hurts bad, because the only friend he has pretends he doesn’t exist ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Somethin’ wrong, Dave?” Jack asks one night as Davey sighs in frustration and sets his English essay aside. They’re leaned up against each other, not unusual.

“No, I’m alright,” Davey lies.

“Yeah, right,” Jack says. “C’mon, tell me.”

Davey hesitates. This could go fine, or this could go very badly. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “I just… feel like you’re ashamed of me.”

Jack frowns. “Ashamed? No way. You’se my best friend.”

“It doesn’t seem like it, half the time,” Davey says, getting up from the bed. “You don’t even acknowledge my existence at school, or when we’re anywhere but here.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says gently. “You know guys like me don’t hang out with guys like you. I don’t want any of the fellas to start, I dunno, thinkin’ somethin’.”

“Thinking what, Jack, that we’re a couple of fags?”

The silence is tense. Jack’s eyes are wide, and Davey just stands there, immediately regretting the words. Fuck, he’d never even thought of them like that, why’d he say that?

“Jesus Christ, Dave,” Jack says finally. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I dunno. But I’m not ashamed of you. I’ll prove it to ya. Why dontcha come to the drive-in with me Saturday night? A few of the guys’ll be there, too.”

Davey furrows his eyebrows. “But you don’t have a car.”

“I’ll take Race’s Corvette. He won’t mind,” Jack says. “So… whaddya say? You in?”

“...Sure.”

-

Race’s hot rod is nice. The Corvette is sleek, and has comfortable seats, except it smells like smoke. But as they drive into the theater, Davey can’t help but think, _This is a date. Jack and I are on a date._ But Jack doesn’t like him like that.

The movie starts up, and Davey immediately groans. “Jailhouse Rock?” he reads off the screen. “If this is about Elvis, I’m leaving.”

Jack shushes him, though he smirks. Much to Davey’s dismay, the movie stars Elvis, but he doesn’t leave. Maybe it’s because he wants to know how it ends. Maybe it’s because, at one point, Jack reaches over and grabs Davey’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and his whole body goes numb with a tingling sensation.

Jack watches the movie, but Davey watches him. He’d never noticed how… beautiful Jack was before this night. Yeah, he’d thought he was good-looking, but he’d never viewed him as attractive. Jack is stunning, really. With his leather jacket and blue jeans, he’s not the type Davey would ever imagine falling for, but in the dark of night at the drive-in, Davey’s heart hammers.

“Like whatcha see?” Jack asks, turning to face him with a smile once the movie is over. Davey’s face goes red and he looks back at the screen. “Oh, c’mon, Dave, I saw ya starin’.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, suddenly very aware of Jack’s hand gripping his own. He resolves not to look at him again.

“Don’t apologize,” Jack says, and puts both his hands on the steering wheel, leaving Davey’s hand feeling empty. “I know I’m good-lookin’.”

“You’re a total flirt, that’s what you are,” Davey says, rolling his eyes as Jack starts up the car and pulls out of the theater. They sit in silence until they pull up in front of Davey’s apartment building, and Davey sets his hand on the handle, opening up the door. “Thanks for tonight. I had fun. Goodnight, Jack.”

“Hold on,” Jack says. He gets out of the car along with Davey. “Lemme walk you up to your apartment. Let’s take the fire escape.”

Davey can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of spending just a few more minutes with Jack, he’s smiling the whole way. They lean against the railing, facing the window of Davey’s apartment.

“I like you a lot, y'know that, Dave?” Jack says after a minute of silence. “I admire ya. You’re smart, and you’re real funny sometimes. I’m glad we could be friends.”

Davey frowns. He doesn’t like the way Jack is wording what he’s saying. Is he going to leave? “What are you saying?” he asks.

“I’m sayin’ I’m about to do somethin’ that might ruin our friendship forever,” Jack says, and before Davey can even process it, their lips are connecting.

It only lasts a second before Jack pulls back, and Davey just stares at him with wide eyes, heart pounding wildly in his chest. Oh, god. He… loves Jack Kelly. He shouldn’t feel this way. But he can’t resist it. Davey pulls Jack forward by his jacket and kisses him again. This time, it’s deeper, more passionate, like both of them have nothing to lose.

Jack wraps his arms around his waist, then pulls away from the kiss again. “Your family,” he whispers, only millimeters from Davey’s face, glancing towards the window.

“It’s fine. They won’t catch us,” Davey assures him offhandedly. He doesn’t care, his brain is clouded by this moment with Jack.

A smile crosses over Jack’s face, and they kiss again. Davey doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of this. He could kiss Jack a million times and it would still feel just as new and amazing.

Jack brings up a hand to cup Davey’s cheek once they pull apart, both breathless, and Davey decides he needs to tell him exactly how he feels now, because he might never get the chance again. “Jack, I—“

They both jolt at the sound of the window opening, and undeniably his father’s voice asking in horror, “David?”

-

Davey doesn’t go to school for a week.

His parents had been upset. His father lectured him for about two hours nonstop that night, about how being gay is wrong, how Jack was a bad influence on him, how disappointed he was in his perfect son, and he hits him. And the whole time, his mother just cried. Somehow, that was worse than any lecture or beating Davey could’ve gotten.

It’s Davey’s choice not to go to school. He doesn’t think he can face Jack. God, he’d been so stupid, so naive. It was his fault for letting Jack Kelly into his life, letting himself fall in love with him.

Yet, Jack finds him anyway. He always does. There’s a knock on his window one evening when Davey should be asleep, but he just can’t. He looks up to see Jack’s face in the window.

“Go ahead,” whispers Sarah from the other bed. “I’ll make sure Mama and Pa don’t come in.”

Davey shoots her a thankful smile, then goes over to the window, because, really, he can’t avoid Jack, even if he tried. Opening it up just a crack, he says, “What?”

“Come out here,” Jack says. He’s holding something underneath his arm, and Davey can’t help but think of how beautiful he looks with the fading sunset shrouding him.

Reluctantly, Davey climbs out of the window and onto the fire escape. This time, he makes sure to not stand in the line of view of the window.

“Christ, Dave,” Jack says, tenderly running his thumb over the fading bruise under Davey’s eye. “Your old man do this to you?”

Davey nods mutely.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Sarah said you’d come down with pneumonia, but I knew better,” Jack says, then, with a sudden change in tone, he smiles. “I brought ya somethin’.”

He holds out what he’s got under his arm. It’s a vinyl record. Of fucking Elvis.

“I’m going to kill you,” Davey says, though he laughs because, honestly? He doesn’t hate Elvis all that much, not when his music reminds him of Jack. It means the world to him, the fact that Jack would spend so much money on him when Davey knows he has so little.

“At least kiss me before ya do?” Jack says with a grin.

And so he does, after setting down the record. Davey kisses Jack like he might never kiss him again.

“I don’t have a record player,” Davey says when they part, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“That’s okay, I’ll just sing the songs for you.”

“Please don’t.”

_“Love me tender, love me dear._

_Tell me you are mine,_

_I’ll be yours through all the years._

_‘Til the end of time._

_Love me—”_

“Spare me, please,” Davey groans.

“Aw, c’mon, I’ve got a lovely singing voice!”

“It’s not your singing. It’s Elvis.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You’ll learn to love him one day.”

“Never.”

And then Jack presses a brief kiss to his lips, but Davey glances at the window.

“Don’t be nervous,” Jack whispers, lips brushing against Davey’s ear. “We got all the time in the world.”

Davey shakes his head. “No, we don’t.” He has to tell him the truth, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans against the railing and stares at the sky.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks, at his side.

“Nothing,” Davey says. “I’m just… cold.”

Immediately, Jack is shedding his leather jacket and wrapping it around Davey. It smells like him. Sure, the smell of cigarettes is off-putting, but it smells like his paints and the fresh air. It’s familiar. “Better?” he asks.

Davey nods.

Jack is careful to keep his distance from Davey, who’s grateful for it, because he doesn’t want a repeat of the night they got caught.

“What are we, Jack?” he asks after several minutes of silence.

“I don’t know.”

Davey rephrases, “What am I to you?”

“My best friend.” Jack doesn’t sound sure, like he doesn’t believe himself. “What am _I_ to _you_?”

_My world,_ Davey wants to say. _My sun, stars, and moon. My everything._

“You’re my best friend, too,” is what he says instead, then he takes a deep breath. “My pa doesn’t want you coming around anymore. He says you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Ya think that’s gonna stop me?” Jack says with a snort. “I’ll visit you every night, wish you goodnight, even if your folks don’t like me no more.”

“Jack,” Davey says, turning to look at Jack. “We can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“All this. The… The kissing, and everything. I want to, but I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong,” Jack says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe everyone else in the whole fuckin’ world is wrong, and we’re the only ones who are right.”

Davey has to tell him now. “But my parents—”

“Screw what your parents say. Let’s run away together, just you an’ me, Dave. And then we ain’t gotta worry about anything or anyone else,” says Jack. He’s got this look of determination in his eyes that makes Davey want to surrender and give in to what he’s saying. He wants to do what Jack says, he really does, he wants to run away, but—

“Jack, my parents are sending me to boarding school.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, not for a long time, and silent tears begin to fall down Davey’s cheeks. The only thing that breaks the silence is his hiccuping sobs.

“You’re okay, Dave,” Jack says softly, setting a hand on his arm. But Davey doesn’t think he’ll be okay. His parents said it’d be good for him, but it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. He doesn’t want to go to a new school again. He doesn’t want to be away from Jack.

“You don’t know that,” Davey murmurs.

“We can still run away,” Jack says, voice slightly breathless, on the verge of desperate. “They can’t send ya anywhere if you’re not here.”

“Where would we go?” Davey asks, wiping away his tears and staring at a blurry vision of the horizon.

Jack reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a crumpled up postcard and holds it up. On it, in big block letters, reads, _GREETINGS FROM SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO,_ accompanied by the skyline on a desert. “Here.”

“We can’t go there,” Davey says. It’s too far away. They won’t make it. They’re just teenagers, and Davey knows nothing about living on his own.

“Sure we can. We just pack our stuff and hitch a train and we’ll be there in a few days,” Jack says. When Davey says nothing, he continues, “Ya can’t let ‘em do this to you, Dave. Just ‘cause you’re gay—”

Davey winces at that word. “Stop,” he says. “Please.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ gay.”

“My pa says there is.”

“Look at me, Dave.” He does. He takes a real good look at Jack. His perfect brown eyes, freckles on his cheeks from spending a little too much time in the sun, specks of dried paint on his hands. “You think there’s somethin’ wrong with me?”

Davey looks down at his feet, cheeks heating up. “No,” he says quietly, because how could there be anything wrong with Jack besides the fact that he smokes too much or doesn’t pay enough attention in class?

“So that means there’s nothin’ wrong with you either.”

“‘It’s different,” Davey says, trying to come up with a rational argument. “‘Cause you’re different from me. It’s fine for you, because you’re Jack and… that’s who you are. But it’s different for me. I… I can’t be like that.”

Jack sets his hand atop Davey’s on the railing, intertwining their fingers. “It’s no different. You can love whoever you wanna love.” Davey notices the way he’s careful with his words. He doesn’t say, _You can love me_. He doesn’t say, _I love you._ He doesn’t say anything like that, and Davey wishes he would. If Jack would just tell him he loves him straight to his face, maybe it would be fine. Maybe Davey wouldn’t feel this raging war inside his head, debating what’s right and what’s wrong, because if Jack loves him, then it has to be okay for Davey to love him back.

Davey is silent. Jack’s still determined to convince him. “We can go to Santa Fe,” he says. “Nobody cares if you like guys or if you like girls out there. It’ll be good. We can get a little plot of land and build a house and get a dog, or somethin’, and it can just be you an’ me.”

And Davey wants that. He wants to believe that life is possible, that him and Jack could be happy together, but he can’t suspend his reality that way like Jack can, he can’t close his eyes and picture a whole other world. He’s a realist, and he sees what’s in front of his face. And that’s the fact that he’s a coward.

“You don’t gotta make your decision right now,” Jack says. “Just… think on it, and meet me at the train station with your stuff a week from now if you wanna come with me.”

“Okay,” Davey says, swallowing painfully. He’s already made his choice. He leaves for his boarding school in three days, but telling Jack seems impossible without the threat of tears. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says, then he smiles. “May I have this dance?”

Davey looks over at him with raised eyebrows. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Tryin’ to take your mind off everythin’,” Jack says. “I want you to be happy. So… what’s your choice? You wanna dance or no?”

“But we don’t have any music.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Jacobs, because we _do_ happen to have my beautiful singin’ voice.”

“Oh no.”

The next hour is the best hour of Davey’s life. It’s just him and Jack, and no one else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, because he knows this might be the last time he sees Jack, and he wants to make the most of it.

They dance, and Jack horribly sings Elvis, and they make dumb jokes and kiss each other, and Davey is so in love with Jack he’s barely able to contain it. But he does.

And then Jack leaves after kissing Davey on the cheek, and he climbs back into bed, still wearing Jack’s leather jacket, still clutching the Elvis record, and still longing to say the three words that are stuck on his tongue.

Davey goes to boarding school, and when he comes back a year later, Jack is nowhere to be found. Katherine tells him he disappeared not long after Davey left, and she’s not sure where he went. But Davey’s sure he’d gone off to Santa Fe, he can near picture him waiting in the train station for someone who’s too scared to love him, because Davey had made his choice. He never sees Jack again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes  
i struggled with internalized homophobia for a long time and still sorta do so that’s lowkey where a lot of this came from. this is lowkey my fav chapter doe ❤️and if there’s one thing u should know about me it’s that i love the outsiders. like idk why. i just always have loved it so much.
> 
> anyway kudos and comments make me smile :) love y’all thanks for supporting me sorry this is so depressing


	5. Life 121: 1988

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death? hospital shit?

Jack hates his roommate. Well, hate is a strong word. He doesn’t _hate_ Davey, he just very, very, very strongly dislikes him.

They’d gotten along to begin with, when they’d met each other at the beginning of the semester, but from there, it all spiraled downhill.

First of all, there’s the fact that Davey leaves cups of coffee everywhere in their dorm room. Jack can’t get two feet without tripping over one. Davey hates that Jack snores so loudly, and Jack hates that Davey keeps the light on late into the night when he’s studying and refuses to turn it off.

And they argue far too much. Jack may be temperamental, but Davey’s stubborn. He doesn’t back down from his viewpoint even if he’s clearly wrong, which pisses Jack off, which, in turn, angers Davey. It’s not a good combination. And anyway, it’s not like Jack is _trying_ to piss off Davey. He wants Davey to like him, but he’s so hard to please that anything he does in an attempt to fix things turns into another problem. It’s exhausting, and, frankly, not worth Jack’s time.

So for the most part, they avoid each other. Which is hard, because Davey is good friends with Specs and JoJo and basically everyone Jack associates with, so he has no escape from him.

Jack’s one relief is class, which is torture, but at least he doesn’t have to see his mortal enemy, because Davey’s a literature major and Jack is a fine arts major, so they don’t cross paths for a few hours.

That is, until, Jack’s art history class gets rescheduled for seven in the morning.

He’s not used to waking up so early, especially after going to sleep at four, so he can barely keep his eyes open as he takes a seat in the back of the room. It’s normally a fucking afternoon class, why does Professor Weasel enjoy making him suffer? Jack nearly dozes off, until a voice jerks him awake.

“Jack.”

Jack sits up straight, rubbing his eyes as he turns to see who it is. Fuck. “Shit, you scared me,” he grumbles, and gets a clear view of Davey sitting beside him.

“Sorry. You, uh, want my coffee? You look tired,” Davey says, holding out his cup to him.

“Oh, really?” Jack snaps. Even though he gazes skeptically at it, he takes the coffee anyway, because he’d be stupid to pass it up. He needs it right now. “What’re you even doin’ here?”

“Oh, um, I like to sit in on extra classes sometimes. They’re interesting. This is the only morning class I haven’t been to yet.”

Of course he does. He’s Davey fucking Jacobs. Because why the fuck wouldn’t he happen to end up in Jack’s art history class? But he _had_ just given him free coffee.

Jack takes a big gulp, and nearly spits it out immediately. Fucking black coffee. “Christ, that’s bitter. You drink this shit everyday?” he asks.

Davey shrugs. “It’s better than lots of sugar and creamer.” And Jack rolls his eyes, because that’s exactly how he likes his coffee. How ironic.

“You’re crazy,” he says shortly, then turns away from Davey, because this conversation is dumb, and so is Davey’s stupid face and so is the way their fingers had brushed when Jack had taken the cup. Jack can’t fucking stand him.

When class ends, Jack is fully awake, thanks to the coffee, even though it tasted like Satan’s asshole, and Davey is glancing over at him.

“You just gonna stare at me or you gonna say something?” Jack asks, picking up his bag as he stands up.

Davey finally seems to come to his senses and snap out of it. He copies Jack and gets to his feet, too, and says, “I was wondering… if you wanted to go for lunch with me after this?”

Jack almost snorts at this, but he holds back. “What, so you can belittle me some more?”

“No! No, I just think that maybe we got off on the wrong foot for the past… two months. And I want to have an enjoyable experience here and not spend my time hating my roommate, so I was thinking we could just talk and get to know each other and not argue, and—”

Jack cuts him off. “I think I get the point.”

Davey’s ears go red. “Right. Sorry.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence as they just stand there, neither knowing what to say. “Well?” Davey says eventually. “You in?”

Jack taps his finger against his chin. “Hmm… alright, I guess I’ve got time for that in my very busy schedule.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

“I’m messin’ with you. Sure. Let’s grab lunch.”

They leave and spend fifteen minutes bickering over where to eat, because Davey is way too indecisive. Eventually, Jack just takes him to a cheap restaurant a couple blocks away from their college building because he knows Katherine works there part-time, and he does not want to be alone, in case they start fist-fighting or something extreme.

When they enter, Katherine’s standing by the front and she grins when she sees Jack. “Hey, Davey!” she says. Fuck this. Of course she knows Davey. Of fucking course. And then her gaze shifts to Jack, and she adds, “Hi, Jack.”

“Y’all know each other?” Jack asks, looking between Davey and Katherine.

“Sure we do,” Katherine says. “He’s Sarah’s brother.”

Right, Sarah’s brother, because of course he has to be Katherine’s girlfriend’s brother.

“Huh. Small world.”

Jack and Davey sit in a booth and look over their menus, but Jack catches Davey sneaking glimpses at him, then looking down just as quick. “Would ya stop doin’ that?” Jack says, irritated, because he can’t deal with this. They’re supposed to be getting along, but he keeps finding things to get upset about. “Just say whatever it is you’re thinkin’.”

Davey sighs. “I don’t get why you… hate me so much,” he says. “Did I do something wrong? Because I’m sorry for whatever I did.”

“Well, I dunno,” Jack mutters, setting down his menu and leaning back. “I only hate you ‘cause you hate me. Nothin’ I do is right by you.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Sure seems like ya do.”

Davey huffs. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you this whole time, but you have this strange, obsessive vendetta against me. I don’t understand it.”

“It’s not _obsessive_,” Jack says with a short, disbelieving laugh.

“But it is a vendetta.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Look, Jack,” Davey says, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but I want to be your friend. I don’t want us to hate each other, and I don’t think that’s what you want either.”

“You’ve got no clue what I want,” Jack says. Davey just stares at him indignantly with his stupid fucking hazel eyes, like he’s too good for a response. He’s so insufferable. But Jack gives in. “But… I’d be okay with tryin’, so long as you stop nitpicking at everythin’ I do.”

And then Davey smiles. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do that before. His stomach flips over, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’s sick, or… something else. It is most definitely not because of Davey’s dumb perfect smile. Well... that’s a start.

-

Jack flops down on Crutchie’s bed with a groan. “I have a problem,” he says miserably.

Crutchie closes the door to his dorm room and sits down on the bed beside Jack. “Davey again?”

“How’d ya know?”

“‘Cause every time Davey does somethin’, you come in here and complain to me. I’ve noticed a pattern.”

Jack sighs and sits up. “He’s just so fucking… I dunno. I hate him.”

“What’d he do this time?” Crutchie asks.

“He gave me his coffee and said he wanted to be friends with me.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Jack, exasperated, throws up his arms, because Crutchie doesn’t understand. “Yes, but also no, because he’s makin’ it so hard for me to hate him, bein’ all… nice to me and stuff.”

“Maybe you should stop tryin’ to find reasons to hate him,” Crutchie suggests with a shrug. “Davey’s a good guy, and you’re the only one of our friends who hates him. It’s weird, Jack. You’re obsessed with him.”

“I am not obsessed with Davey!” Jack says immediately.

Crutchie raises a single eyebrow. “No, you ain’t obsessed with him. You’re in love with him.”

Jack’s mouth drops open, and he tries to stammer out an argument. “I’m not- I’m not _in love_ with—”

“Oh, come on, Jack. What other explanation is there for your infatuation with him?”

“Maybe I actually hate him, Crutchie. Y’know, like I’ve been tellin’ ya for months?”

“Well, ya know what they say,” Crutchie says. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“No one says that.”

Crutchie just shakes his head, clearly giving up at trying to get his point across, which Jack is grateful for, because he’s not in love with Davey, and if he was, that would be weird.

“You should at least try an’ be friends with him,” Crutchie says. “And talk out your issues. It’s exhausting watchin’ you two hate each other.”

Reluctantly, Jack sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. I’ll try.”

He does want to be friends with Davey, and apparently Davey wants to be friends with him, too, but Jack isn’t so sure they’re compatible. Some people just aren’t meant to be friends.

-

Back in their room, Jack finds Davey sitting on his bed, absorbed in a book. It’s late by then, so he’s shocked to see Davey still awake.

“Hey,” Jack says, making it his main goal not to think about what Crutchie said. He’s not in love with Davey.

Davey just glances up at him momentarily without saying a word.

Jack, determined to make this a positive experience, sits down on the bed next to him. “Whatcha readin’?” he asks, peering over his shoulder.

“_Madame Bovary_,” Davey says, all while not even looking at Jack.

“That for class?”

“Yup.”

Jack frowns. “So you’ve gotta read this book, and probably write a whole bunch of shit about it, and you still find the time to sit in on random classes? How have you not gone insane?”

“Lots of self-control and black coffee,” Davey says, flipping a page.

“Right,” Jack says, and they lapse into a painful silence. Davey’s not telling him to get off his bed, so he’s assuming he’s okay with him sitting there, but it’s awkward because he doesn’t know what to say as Davey’s reading. “That book any good?”

“Uh-huh.”

Getting Davey to respond in anything other than one word answers is difficult, but it’s fine, because they’re not fighting. Everything is okay, even if Davey sounds pissed off. He’s always like that. “Can ya read some of it to me?” Jack asks.

Davey looks over at Jack, studying him for a moment, then says, “Okay.” Jack grins as he begins to read. “‘But if there were somewhere a being strong and beautiful, a valiant nature, full at once of exaltation and refinement, a poet's heart in an angel's form, a lyre with sounding chords ringing out…’”

Davey’s voice is surprisingly relaxing to listen to, even if Jack doesn’t understand what’s going on in the book. Just the cadence of his voice draws Jack in. They’re sitting fairly close together. If either of them moved an inch, their shoulders would be touching. For what feels like hours, the two of them sit there until Davey’s voice finally trails off into quiet snores, and Jack ends up with Davey’s head resting on his shoulder.

Jack doesn’t want to wake Davey by getting up—he probably needs every second of sleep he can get—and besides, as much as he hates his guts, Jack has to admit he’s cute when he’s sleeping.

Hold on. No, Davey’s not cute. Well, he’s not ugly, but Jack definitely _does not_ think he’s cute, or beautiful, or even remotely attractive. Then Davey shifts ever so closer to Jack, mouth hanging slightly agape as he sleeps, and he feels his cheeks warm up. The close proximity is enough to make his heart pound. Shit. Crutchie was right. Jack’s in love with Davey.

-

The next morning, Jack wakes up at ten. Davey’s gone, probably for one of his classes, and there’s a torn piece of paper on the nightstand reading, “SORRY,” hastily written in capital letters.

Jack is still in Davey’s bed, and he pictures last night in his mind. It had been… good. Perfect, actually. They’d gotten along, and when Davey read to him, it made his stomach twist, like when he smiled, even though it shouldn’t have. Jack’s supposed to hate Davey, because he’s stupid and stubborn and a total smartass. He’s not supposed to have a dumb crush on him, honestly, what is he, a teenage boy again?

Jack doesn’t have a morning class today, so he decides to sit under a tree in the courtyard with his sketchbook. He ends up drawing nothing at all, instead just holding his pencil and staring at the blank page in frustration. Art block is shit.

He’s about to get up and leave when he sees someone familiar walking towards him. Davey. “Hey, Jack,” he says when he reaches him, a little breathless.

“Hey,” Jack says.

“I’m sorry about last night, I, uh, didn’t mean to… fall asleep on you,” Davey says, voice getting quieter at the end. He rubs his arm up and down and doesn’t meet Jack’s eyes.

“It’s alright, you were tired,” he says, then the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “I think I can say you snore louder than me.”

Davey’s face goes red, but he’s fast to quip back. “I don’t think I sound like a lawnmower.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Oh, fuck off,” he says, but he’s glad their teasing is playful. It’s not as exhausting as when they argue.

Davey chuckles nervously. “Really, I am sorry, though. I’m just… tired, I guess? And under a lot of stress.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Jack asks. When Davey gives him a skeptical look, he tacks on, “I’m just concerned, as a friend. ‘Cause we’re friends now.”

“Okay,” Davey says finally, and sits down under the tree beside Jack. He seems to ponder for a few moments before speaking up again. “I’m tired ‘cause I haven’t got a lot of sleep lately. And I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately because I’m stressed. And I’m stressed because, well, my dad got into an accident last week.”

“Is he okay?”

Davey doesn’t look at him, instead staring off into the distance. “Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. It was a car wreck and he only busted up his leg, but he got laid off, and my mom and Sarah’s income isn’t enough to support my family, and Les is a seventh grader. So I’ve been trying to get a job and I’ve got an interview tomorrow, and on top of that I have three essays and a review on a book I haven’t even started due next week.” By the end of this, he’s got his head buried in his hands and heaves out a deep sigh.

“That sounds like… a lot,” Jack says.

Davey nods.

“Maybe you should try takin’ a break? Like, I dunno, a day or two to yourself? I always see ya working yourself to the bone. That can’t be healthy.”

“I don’t know,” Davey says with a sigh. “I don’t really have time to take a break.”

“How ‘bout you get a coffee with me sometime? Even if all ya drink is tasteless, bland shit,” Jack says, cracking a grin.

Although the hesitance is evident, Davey breaks into a smile too. “Okay. Sure. We can do that.”

-

It goes good. Everything is perfect. Jack’s grades are good, his art is turning out just how he wants it, and life has become easier now that him and Davey are getting along. He realizes that he’s been wrong about his roommate this entire time. While he’d thought Davey was stubborn, he begins to see it as him standing up for what he believes in. Where he’d been rude and sarcastic, it’s now clever remarks.

Turns out, Crutchie was right. Davey isn’t that bad of a guy after all. In fact, Jack actually trusts him more than a lot of his other friends. And there still is the whole… in love thing, but he pushes it to the side and doesn’t mention it, because it’s not right for him to dump that on Davey when he’s under so much stress. So Jack will wait. He’ll wait as long as he needs until it’s the right time to confess his feelings. Jack would die for him, if that’s what he needed.

He finally builds up the courage to confess his feelings over spring break. Davey’s staying with his family, so Jack has the whole dorm to himself for a week, but it’s not the same without Davey. It’s empty and lonely and quiet, even if Davey doesn’t say much that often, but by the end of the week, Jack knows he’s coming back later that night, so it’s alright. He sits at his desk in the dorm in anticipation, glancing at the clock. Seven P.M. Only an hour until Davey gets back.

He’d picked out a bouquet of flowers earlier that day, roses and carnations and whatever else Jack thought looked pretty. It’s cheesy, yeah, but fuck it, it’s the eighties, he can do whatever he damn well pleases.

Eight rolls around, but Davey doesn’t show. Maybe he had to run a late errand? Or maybe he’s staying one more night with his family? Jack waits. He waits for hours. By ten, he gets bored and starts working on the sketch of a painting for class, and by eleven, he wants to rip the painting apart. Eventually, he resigns to bed. He’ll tell Davey in the morning.

Jack is awoken only a few hours later by the phone ringing. Shit. Half-asleep, he rolls over in bed to pick up the phone. “What?” he slurs out. Whoever’s calling him at this hour better have a good fucking reason.

“Jack? It’s Katherine.”

“Whaddya want?” Jack asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed to him that Davey’s bed is still empty. “It’s… three in the goddamn mornin’. Can’t a fella get some sleep?”

“There’s been an accident,” Katherine says. Her voice is frantic, and he can make out other voices in the background.

That wakes Jack up. “What? Are you okay? Is Sarah—” he starts, but nerves settle in the pit of his stomach. There’s a thought deep in his brain that he doesn’t want to confront just yet. But Katherine forces him to.

She sighs. “No, we’re fine. It’s, um, Davey. There… was a car wreck. It was a drunk driver, and, well…” She trails off. “Sarah and I are at the hospital now. He’s in surgery, but they haven’t told us anything else.”

Jack is silent. His hands tremble. Shit. Why tonight? Why did it have to be tonight of all nights? It was supposed to be good. It was supposed to be perfect. Him and Davey were finally supposed to have their happy ending after so much waiting. They were so close.

“Jack?” Katherine’s voice stings in his ear, reminding him he’s still in reality. This isn’t a dream.

Jack doesn’t answer. Instead, he hangs up the phone, picks up the bouquet, and pulls on his jacket, heading for the door. Davey is not dying tonight, no way.

Nothing feels real, not the bright artificial lights in the hallways of the dorm building, not the car that nearly hits Jack as he runs across the street, not even Katherine, who he sees upon entering the hospital.

She pulls him into a hug, and they embrace for several minutes. She sniffles, and then pulls back. There are tear tracks on her cheeks. Jack can’t recall the last time he’s seen her cry.

“You brought flowers?” Katherine asks, looking at the now crumpled bouquet in Jack’s hands.

“I was goin’ to give them to him earlier, ‘cause, uh…” He can’t find the words to finish his sentence, and instead stares down at the flowers.

Katherine seems to catch on. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They meet Sarah in the waiting room. She doesn’t seem to be fully present in the situation, and Jack understands. It’s her brother. She sits in one of the chairs, just shaking her head every so often. Katherine stays by her side and holds her hand. A reminder. _You’re not alone._

Jack has no one. He sits there and waits. The flowers sit in his lap. He’s going to give them to Davey, because Davey has to survive this. They have to have their happy ending.

The waiting room is empty besides them. It’s terrible. It’s only filled with silence, none of them want to speak up, because what is there to say? What do you say when this happens? There are no words to encapsulate it.

“Visitors for David Jacobs?”

The doctor tells them Davey’s out of surgery and awake, but won’t say the condition he’s in. Then he says only family members will be allowed to visit at this time, and Sarah and Katherine manage to convince him they’re sisters and go in to visit him. Which leaves Jack to wait. He waits. And he waits. He does nothing much but sit and think of nothing, because if he thinks of something he’ll think of Davey and how he might die, but he’s not even sure because he hasn’t been told anything.

It’s seven in the morning when he’s finally allowed to see Davey, after his parents leave in tears. Katherine and Sarah tell him he hadn’t really been mentally present and couldn’t figure out who Katherine was, but he’d asked for Jack. The girls wait outside, so Jack’s alone.

Slowly, he pushes open the door to Davey’s room. The room is dark. Davey is lying in bed, hooked up to several machines, and his eyes open when the door creaks open.

“Hey, buddy,” Jack says quietly, sitting down beside the bed. He’s still holding the flowers. Davey’s eyes follow him, but he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t really look like Davey. He’s pale, his eyes are sunken, and there’s scratches and wounds littering his face and arms. A swollen lip. A long, jagged cut across his cheek. Glass from the window, he guesses. Those are only the ones he can see. “Jack…” Davey wheezes out, and Jack sees the corners of his lips turn up into what must be a painful smile.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, which is a stupid question, because the only correct answer is ‘like shit.’

“I feel like I could... run a marathon right now.” His voice is weak, but he’s still there. That’s all that matters. Davey is still alive.

Jack laughs, then reaches out and places his hand on top of Davey’s. “Real funny,” he says, even though he’s scared. He’s so, so scared, but he can’t let Davey know.

“You have a class… two hours…” Davey says. He glances down at their hands.

“I know,” says Jack. “You’s more important, though. I can’t have you dyin’ on me, Dave. And if ya do, I’ll be pissed.”

“S’okay, the doctor said I’m gonna make a full recovery.” Davey says this with a wide smile, and it makes Jack want to believe it’s true. Then his smile fades and his gaze shifts to the flowers in Jack’s hands. “Flowers?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they for Sarah? She’s got a girlfriend, you know that, right?” Yeah, Davey’s not mentally present at all.

“Naw, they ain’t for Sarah.”

Then the puzzle pieces seem to fit together in Davey’s head. “Oh. They’re for me.”

“Gee, how’d I ever get a roommate so smart?” Jack asks.

“Shaddup,” Davey mumbles as his eyes flutter closed. Jack crosses the room to put the bouquet in an empty vase on the windowsill, then returns to Davey’s side. “I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“But you just got here. I want to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me when ya wake up.”

Davey’s eyes open again, and he stares at Jack, expressing so much without saying a word. “Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise, I’ll be here, Dave. Okay?” Jack pats his shoulder. “Now get some rest, yeah?”

Then Davey drifts off to sleep, and Jack stays by his side the entire time, not letting go of his hand. Jack realizes just how much he loves Davey. It’s a different love, it’s special. Like they’ve met before in another reality and they’re old souls reuniting. Because he loves Katherine. He loves Medda. He loves Crutchie. But the way he loves Davey is different. It consumes the entirety of him, every atom in his body, with all of his heart.

Eleven A.M. is when things start to go wrong. Davey’s been sound asleep, but at one point, the heart monitor picks up, going far too fast, then there’s a single tone. Flatline. Dead. Jack’s eyes widen. No. No. No. Don’t let this happen.

A group of paramedics rush in, pushing Jack out of the way to restart Davey’s heart. He watches in shocked silence until Davey’s heart starts beating steady again.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Jack asks one of the doctors.

There’s a long period of silence. That means no. Davey’s going to die. “His heart is weak,” the doctor says finally. “We predict it will continue to fail, and the most we can do at the moment is to keep restarting it, but…”

“You’re sayin’ he’s gonna die,” Jack says flatly. He’s not stupid. He knows that when his mama had been in the hospital when he was six years old, they’d said she was going to survive, but then she didn’t. The doctors were wrong, but Jack’s not letting them be wrong again. Davey can’t die.

“Not for certain. There is another option, but—”

“What is it?”

“—it will be costly and difficult, but it guarantees his survival.” The doctor pauses. “He needs a heart transplant.”

“So do it!” Jack nearly yells, on the verge of hysteria. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Davey, his chest drawing in shallow breaths. He won’t have to wait much longer. Jack’s going to keep his promise to him. “I’ll pay for it, I don’t care, just make sure he survives!”

“We don’t have any hearts in storage—”

“Then take mine,” Jack says without hesitating. Davey has to live. He’ll do whatever he needs. When the doctor gives him a wide-eyed look, he continues, “Take mine, goddammit, don’t just stand around here!”

“Sir—”

“Do it!” he yells, voice shaking. Jack fights off the oncoming tears, and his voice shrivels into something more raw and vulnerable. “Please. Don’t let him die.”

The doctor stares at him with an open jaw, seeming appalled. “Sir, there’s a lot of paperwork you’d have to fill out…”

“I know,” Jack says, pinching the bridge of his nose, like Davey does when he gets stressed. “Give it to me. I’ll fuckin’ fill it out.”

“And you do realize that after this operation—”

“I know I’m goin’ to die! I don’t fucking care, just give me the damn paperwork and let’s do the transplant!” Jack has to hold himself back from throttling the poor doctor, because every second they waste is another second ticking down from the clock of Davey’s survival rate. He has to do this, because Davey deserves to live more than he does. He has a family, he has a successful life ahead of him, and Jack’s not going to let him go so easily.

Several signed papers later, Jack sits by Davey’s bedside as the doctors prepare a room for the operation. “I’m sorry,” he says, even though he knows Davey can’t hear him. “For bein’ such an asshole to you. I hope this’ll make up for it.”

Davey’s face is still and peaceful, and Jack runs a tender hand along his cheek. When he looks at Davey, he sees a hundred lifetimes worth of time, he sees stars, and fire escapes, and fireflies, and old records. “I love you,” Jack whispers. “Shit, Dave, I love you more than anythin’. I wish I got to tell ya to your face. I’m gonna miss you.”

Jack lets out a shaky sigh as a doctor enters the room, letting him know it’s time for surgery, and he gives one last lingering look at Davey Jacobs, the boy he loves with all his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i am on crack 24/7 luvs  
i will update best laid plans... soon... promise. and i will also post something else. soon....... not gonna say what it is doe
> 
> thank you all for all the nice comments and messages it really makes my day! the last chapter will be up shortly <3


	6. Life 132: 2019

Davey meets Jack Kelly in his freshman year of high school. He’s new to the school, and Jack is assigned to give him a tour around the school.

Jack is charming and flirty and witty, but Davey doesn’t allow himself to feel special, because he soon learns he acts that way around everyone, but he does allow himself to become friends with him. They’re in a few classes together, and Jack helps him out in art class, while Davey helps him with English class, and therefore their friendship begins.

Being friends with Jack is easy. It comes like second nature to him, like they were always destined to meet, and through him, Davey meets his other friends, Katherine and Crutchie and Race and the rest, and he’d never trade them for the world. And he loves his friends, but he loves Jack just a little bit more.

Jack is the sun—his laugh is light and airy, his eyes are bright, and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He can light up a whole room just by walking in, and Davey thinks he’s smiled more with Jack than with anyone else. And Jack is everything Davey wants to be, carefree and happy and a dreamer.

It’s really not his fault he falls in love with Jack Kelly. Who doesn’t? Jack is always number one in his life, but Davey is never number one in his. He loses, and he keeps on losing.

Davey walks in on Sarah and Jack kissing on the fire escape during the summer before sophomore year. Lose.

Jack asks Katherine to homecoming in junior year. Lose.

Davey sees Katherine and Sarah holding hands at Mush’s house party during senior year. Win?

Honestly, it’s that house party that sets the whole chain of events off. Davey had only been dragged along by Jack, who insisted he ‘live a little,’ as he so wisely put it, and then he promptly abandons Davey to go find Spot.

So Davey stands by himself, staring at his phone as kids around him get drunk off their asses and dance and make out or whatever teenagers do. All he wants to do is go home, but Jack’s his ride and also nowhere to be found, so he sends him a text.

**From: Davey**  
_Where are you??_

There’s three long minutes of nothing, until finally Davey sees Jack’s typing.

**From: Jack :-)**  
_g_

**From: Davey**  
_???_

**From: Jack :-)**  
_imfn fuckinge_

**From: Jack :-)**  
_DRUNK AS FUKCK!!!!!_

**From: Davey**  
_Where are you_

**From: Jack :-)**  
_who_

**From: Davey**  
_You_

**From: Jack :-)**  
_ohg ok_

**From: Davey**  
_Nvm I’m just finding you myself._

Eventually, he finds Jack draped across a couch in the basement, and Davey has to drag him out of the house because it’s clear he’s had way too much to drink and if he has any more Davey thinks Jack’s liver won’t survive the night.

And Jack’s natural balance isn’t exactly intact, so Davey wraps his arm around his waist and helps him into the car. “We’re getting you home,” he says.

Jack groans and rests his head against the seat. “Stay the night with me?” he asks. “Please?”

“Okay,” Davey says, then gets in the driver’s side of the car, because it’s impossible to say no to Jack. “But we’re going back to my place, because my mom’s gonna kill me if I’m not there in the morning.” He’s not sure why he even bothers to explain it to Jack, because he’s incompetent when he’s drunk.

They drive home in relative silence, and when they get to Davey’s apartment, Jack knocks on the door. Davey rolls his eyes and unlocks it. They go to Davey’s room and lay down in his bed. Davey doesn’t find it weird. They’re best friends, and they’ve slept in the same bed before. It’s just a best friend thing. But he’s not so tired, so he just stares at the ceiling and hopes sleep will overtake him soon.

Jack must toss and turn a thousand times before he finally settles, and Davey thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he hears Jack’s voice whisper, “Dave?”

“Yeah?” he whispers back in the darkness.

“You’re my best friend, y’know that?” Jack asks. Davey can practically hear the grin in his voice, but he seems to have sobered up just a bit.

“I know.”

“Thanks for always takin’ care of me.”

Davey’s cheeks heat up. “Go to sleep, Jack. It’s late.”

And then there’s more silence, and Davey hears Jack shifting, and then Jack’s arm is around Davey’s chest, and he tries his best to ignore his heart hammering against his ribcage. This doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. Jack’s just drunk and clingy.

“Dave?” Jack asks again.

“What?”

“You wanna come over and celebrate Christmas with me?”

A small smile forms on Davey’s lips. “Christmas isn’t for another two months,” he says.

“So?”

“I’m also Jewish.”

Jack pauses. “Then we can celebrate Chris-Hanukkah.”

“That’s… not a thing,” Davey says.

“Sure it is. I can buy one of those candle things—”

“A menorah.”

“—yeah, that, and we can listen to Mariah Carey, and there ya have it, Chris-Hanukkah.”

“Go to sleep, dumbass,” Davey says, and it’s seemingly effective, because Jack doesn’t say anything further, instead he just cuddles closer to Davey and starts to snore. It’s always the damn snoring.

-

They end up not celebrating anything together, because Davey’s swamped with his future. His future college, his future job, but his future with Jack has been put on the back burner.

When the end of senior year rolls around, Davey’s exhausted, and he’s ready to sleep for a thousand years, but it seems like fate has other plans for him on the day after graduation.

His birthday. Davey really has no problem with his birthday, he just hates that today he has no energy to do anything but lay in bed, but he can’t really deny Jack’s invitation to come over and celebrate with Kath and Crutchie and Sarah, of course.

It’s lowkey, something Davey appreciates, the five of them pile themselves onto Jack’s cramped couch and watch _Saved by the Bell_ reruns and eat ice cream and that’s it. And he watches Katherine and Sarah hold hands and be in love and he tries to suffocate his feelings towards Jack.

It’s late by the time Davey leaves Jack’s place.

Everyone else has long gone, leaving just the two of them on the couch, not really paying attention to the TV anymore, and eventually, Davey says that he should get home, and Jack offers to drive him home.

“Thanks for this,” Davey says, casting one last smile at Jack before reaching for the doorknob, but Jack stops him in the doorway by grabbing his wrist.

“Wait, uh, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and leaning against the frame.

“Yeah?” Davey asks, turning so they’re face to face.

“Um…” Jack shifts his weight back and forth. Davey’s never seen him this nervous before, and there’s a spark of hope inside of him that he might feel the same way that Davey does about him. “Look up.”

Davey tilts his chin up to see… mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe. “Jack, it’s almost June,” he says with a frown.

Jack holds his hands up defensively. “I know, I know! But… we missed Chris-Hanukkah.”

“That’s still not a thing.”

“Just shut up and kiss me already,” Jack says.

And Davey does. He wraps his arms around Jack’s waist and kisses him, all inexperience and imperfection, but he can’t find it in him to care because the feeling that’s blossoming in his chest is overwhelming, and it’s almost painful how much he loves Jack.

When he finally pulls back, they’re both standing there, and Jack’s the first to react with a wide grin. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that,” he says breathlessly. Definitely a win.

“Have you had that thing hanging up there since December?” Davey asks, glancing up at the mistletoe.

Jack’s smile turns sly. “Maybe.”

_I love you,_ Davey thinks.

“I love you,” Davey says.

Jack’s eyes widen and his smile fades, and instantly, Davey begins to worry. _Am I moving too fast? I shouldn’t have dropped that on him so soon._ And then Jack says, “I love you, too, Dave,” and kisses him again.

And now, Davey knows for certain that this lifetime, everything is going to go right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO ITS DONE. yes davey uses old people emoticons like :-) or :-( no i do not take criticism but THANKS FOR STICKING THROUGH THIS BS GUYS
> 
> if you liked this please comment/leave kudos it boosts my ego so thank you
> 
> also lmk if i should do part 2s/follow up writing to any of these... like idk. anyway enough of my rambling have a good night/morning i love yall


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